Emancipation of A Drama Queen

I am becoming way too intimate with the public restrooms of the stores I visit, when my children are in tow.

DramaBoy has been potty trained for sometime now. We can generally get through any store without a trip to the bathroom. Monster, however, is learning and peeing in the toilet every day much to my joy. In fact, he learned so quickly that I actually take the major parental risk of leaving the house without a pull-up on him… but I do have extra shorts packed, just in case.

Today, we ventured out to run several errands and our first stop was the health food store. See, I have discovered (thanks to the Today show and some Internet research) that the sulfates in shampoos are nothing more than sudsing/lathering agents and actually dry out hair thus causing frizz. Since I already have a dry texture to my hair that responds incredibly poorly to humidity, this subject touched a rather large nerve in me. The trip to the health food store was to find a natural shampoo that did not contain sulfates.

You would think that after 4 years of child-rearing, literally and figuratively, I would know that this could not be a simple run to the health food store. But, dammit, nothing was going to stop my mission to find that perfect new shampoo which, by the way, better live up to all of my expectations or else I’m going to ram my foot up someone’s ass.

I pulled up in front of the store and proceeded with my usual mama speech prior to releasing my children from the seat belts. “You both better behave and listen to me when we are in this store. This is not a fun store, mama just needs one thing and then are leaving. Got it?”

A I heard a the expected and collaborative “Yes ma’am” and we were off to find my new shampoo.

We got into the store, I started surveying my prospects and Monster says, “I have to pee!”

Fear rushed over me because I didn’t see a bathroom anywhere in this tiny little store. Then, as if on cue, DramaBoy says, “I have to pee too!”

I run up to the front counter with both tiny bladders by my side and I ask what I thought was definitely a “no” question.

“Do you have a bathroom in here?”

“SURE! Right through that door back there and to the left!”

“OH THANK GOD!”

And off we sprinted to the back so they could relieve themselves.

DramaBoy and Monster step up to the toilet after I told them not to touch ANYTHING … read: DO NOT TOUCH THE LID OF THE TOILET OR PUT YOUR HANDS ANYWHERE NEAR THE TOILET! JUST PEE AND AIM WELL!

Monster and DramaBoy stood at the toilet and both attempted to pee, but apparently only one succeeded. Then it was time to wash hands and get the hell out of there before either of them touched anything. Easier said than done.

Back in the shampoo isle I’m still reading labels and narrowing down my choices. Then, I hear Monster mutter those words, “I have to pee again!”

“WHUH! Didn’t you just go?!” I retorted.

“I have to pee again!” He repeats as if I didn’t hear him the first time.

Back through the stock-room door we go and back into the bathroom. Monster takes his stance again and after a few seconds, much to my horror, I see pee flying straight up and over the side of the toilet splashing onto the floor, all over his feet and of course the seat. It was actually comical… think of that diaper commercial where the father is at a dinner party and takes his infant son into the bedroom to change him and pee shoots out all over the furniture and ceiling. Needless to say, I’m mortified.

Remember, we are in a health food store so they don’t have ANY paper towels in this bathroom. None. They have a non-working hand dryer though. I have no way to clean this mess up. Monster managed to finally pee the rest into the toilet but not before making a giant puddle on the floor and all over his feet.

Stoopid me thought that having boys would be WAY easier to deal with public bathrooms. Yeah….

Monster’s shorts, feet, flip-flops, toilet seat and floor are now drenched in pee. I contemplated on telling someone so they could clean it up, but I was way too embarrassed. So I ran out like a dog guilty of eating your entire Thanksgiving dinner. Real smooth.

I found my shampoo, paid for it and left quickly but just waiting for a clerk to run out of the store after me claiming that my son had completely defiled the bathroom and that I need to get in there and clean it up or they would dump wheat-grass shots over my head and roll me in tofu. I shook it off and took another risk and decided that Monster needed to be changed now, it couldn’t wait. Screw the wheat-grass and tofu threats! So in the parking lot right outside of the store I changed Monster’s shorts to the spare pair I had and put a damn pull-up on the kid because we still had places to go. The next time someone goes into that bathroom they are going to know exactly who did it. There was only a couple of other people in the store, without kids. I am pretty sure they don’t get many requests to use the bathroom. I wonder if I can be banned for this?

Whoever said having kids potty trained was easier is a gynormous tool.

Most commercials suck, badly.

Instead of opening with a large, overstated and dramatic monologue, I’m just going to say it.

This fucking commercial has been pissing me off since the first day it hit the airwaves. Watch, then we will discuss….

The most validating thing so far is within the comments posted on YouTube under the video. It seems I’m not the only one who gets pissed when watching this lame ass commercial. I want to rip that woman’s face off (ok, not really the woman, but the annoying bitch character that the underpaid actor is portraying).

I’m not completely a traditionalist in that I think women should be submissive to their husbands and should vacuum in high heels, wear skirts every day, have a drink in hand as he walks through the door and dinner on the table waiting.

However, I happen to despise it when women treat men like the little woman in this commercial is treating her fake, on-screen husband.

I feel a major soapbox revival coming on and I’m trying to squash it because after I post things like that I go back and read them and cringe at my pompous idiocy in trying to convey some lame point that really doesn’t matter. So, just know that it bugs the shit out of me to watch commercials like that where women have to twist and turn things that men say knowing damn well they they are men and don’t always say things the right way. It’s just that simple!

You know what I would have rather seen in this commercial? Here, this is how it should have gone…

“So, I see you are eating Multi-grain cheerios? Trying to lose weight?”

“No! Fuck-off jackass! It’s just a healthy cereal so I’m eating it! When you drink light beer should I ask you if you are trying to lose weight?”

“Well, light beer does have less carbs and calories, so maybe I should start drinking more of it. Good point!”

“Yeah, you do that. And I’ll keep eating these fucking Cheerios and pretend that it’s going to make my heart healthy and potentially shrink my ass so I can fit into my wedding dress again.”

“Heh! That’s not going to happen sweetie.”

“Fuck you. Go get drunk and leave me alone.”

See? This commercial would have been much more believable. There is no superiority on either side and it’s probably a much more common conversation. Husbands and wives are supposed to be honest with each other, right? If I can’t have an honest conversation with my husband then who can I have one with? Lip service and denial is bullshit. If there are an extra 30 pounds on my hips and 20 pounds on his belly, so what! But don’t act like it ain’t there! Ok, I’m getting off topic.

My point is, women know that men don’t speak the same language as us, so why bother twisting words and CREATING fights! When your man comes home from work and looks at you and says, with all seriousness, ‘where’s my dinner bitch?’ and then you notice lipstick on his collar and his belt buckle, THEN you can pick a fight.

Now, commercials like the following might seemingly start out as incredibly annoying. And then there comes a day where you know all the words to the jingle and you find your self on the toilet pooping and singing it in your head.

“F-R-E-E that spells free, credit report dot come baby!”

I just want to see more honest commercials like this. That’s all. Is that too much to ask? You know, along the lines of bullshit commercials that insult my intelligence and try to make me believe that being 110 pounds is fat, Kelloggs can start kissing my 150 pound ass up the right side and down the left.

They like to make commercials featuring 115-120 pound women who are on the verge of either skipping breakfast because they think they are fat OR they are on the verge of a late night snack that might add .28 pounds to their hips! OMG! The horror!

Do ya’ll remember the one of the woman in the red shirt whose button pops off while in her kitchen before work? She didn’t even have big boobs! That commercial must do wonders for the girls with eating disorders. Then there is the one where this skinny little woman comes running into the kitchen and her roommate chastises her for missing breakfast and says something like, “you can lose weight by eating breakfast!” or something along those lines. Yeah, because we all know that 105 pounds is overweight.

Don’t get me started on toilet paper commercials… the new Quilted Northern commercial is a gem. This one features nice looking women washing their hands and grooming themselves in the mirror while smiling and looking so jovial because they just WIPED THEIR ASSES WITH QUILTED TOILET PAPER! Subtlety is fine, but give me a break. When it comes to toilet paper, constipation medication, diarrhea meds, hemorrhoid cream and feminine products we don’t need subtle hints or demonstrations. Just flash the package on the screen, tell me where I can buy it and be done with it.

I hate watching live t.v. Shows on DVR are like eating popcorn chicken from KFC. You get all the crispy goodness and yummy meat without the nasty bone and cartilage. DVR is like going to Wal-Mart and finding a good space right away without meandering up and down the isles for 10 minutes. DVR is like never, EVER getting junk mail, or bills.

I suppose that is enough metaphors. We all know the importance of DVR.

The prognosis on my step-dad is great and he is doing really well in the rehabilitation facility. I miss him already.

We are back home now. The boys and I flew in on Tuesday and then spent the day yesterday with hubs. It was very nice to be home, the whole family together again and enjoying our time.

Today, it is officially back to normal…. Me vs. the children, Round 1. They have been little pills today but I proudly proclaim that I have handled them extremely well.

It is a sauna here, though. Hot, humid…. ugh. I’m going to say something that I usually enjoy slapping other people for because I grew incredibly tired of hearing it, but alas, I now vividly see the logic and feelings behind it.

At least it was a dry heat in Phoenix. I reveled in the dry heat. It wasn’t as bad as I thought I remembered it being. Then, I came home to this thick, sticky air of the Midwest and sweat drips between my boobs. Gross.

Regardless, I am damn glad to be home! I think I missed the comfort of my own bed the most. I love my  bed! I had to pry my body out of it this morning and I whimpered slightly as I walked away.

So, life resumes. I even took my obligatory trip to the Wal-Mart so I could satiate my mad desires for some shampoo and watermelon toothpaste for DramaBoy who practically vomits anytime another flavor of children’s toothpaste passes his lips. Oh the demands of four-year olds.

The important thing is that we made it back home in time for Father’s Day and, almost as important but I’m not labeling it more important so as not to offend my dear husband, is the TASTE OF CHICAGO! I live for this event every year. It’s a pig’s food lover’s paradise. For me, it’s Heaven. When I die, if Heaven has Targets and the Taste of Chicago, then I will be one happy little angel. Hell would be a Wal-Mart parking lot and a television that only shows reruns of M*A*S*H.

Oh, and my anniversary is the end of this month, too. Five years of marriage, a milestone! The traditional gift is wood. The modern gift is silverware. So, I’m thinking of getting him some wooden shoes from Holland and pickle fork. He’ll love ‘em.

First things first, Father’s Day. What on earth do you get the man that has no problem telling you that your gift sucks if he doesn’t like it? Hmmmm?

Anyway, let the randomness come to an end. Peace out, as DramaBoy likes to say now… Thanks to Uncle J.

I’m still alive, in case anyone is wondering. I have just been too lazy and to busy to write anything.

First things first, my step-dad is doing fantastic and was just moved to the neuro rehabilitation wing of the hospital and will be there at least 3 weeks, depending on his progress. He will be going through physical, occupational and speech therapy vigorously 6 days a week. But, his recovery has been so good that we all know he can handle this.

He is still his same-old joking self and flashes his big smiles all the time now. But, he does say things that make zero sense quite a bit too. So, there is a long way to go. He does know everyone who comes to see him and will flip off the nurses and doctors once in a while as well. He doesn’t really know what happened to him yet and doesn’t quite remember things from day to day either. But, he is getting there.

I was not aware of this until recently, but only 20% of people that have an aneurysm like his survive it. And, with his exact condition and the severity of the one he had, only 5% survive. He has beat the odds all the way around by what I truly believe was a miracle. It just was not his time to go… but we don’t know why he had to go through this at all yet. We are just greatful he is still with us and will more than likely make a complete 100% recovery. It’s hard to believe that a little over 3 weeks ago he was hooked up to every possible machine and tube you could imagine and had undergone 2 brain surgeries and a few other procedures to correct other issues.

Now that he is doing so well and in rehab, the boys and I are heading home. We leave Tuesday to get back to reality and regular life. We are all excited to get back but I am very sad to leave as well. I will miss my family so much, again! Being here all this time, and during the summer heat for the first time in years, I’m pretty sure that this is where I want to be, eventually. But I will let the hands of fate handle it from here on out.

As for my home, well, if you watched the new today chances are good you saw a report about tornadoes hitting the south suburbs of Chicago. I know it made the news here in Phoenix even. Well, that would be where I live. All the pictures they showed and all the reports of touchdowns were within about 1-2 miles of my house. Hubs was in the cellar with the dog for a little bit I think. The overturned cars and semi on hwy 57 were about 2 miles south of where I live. The 57 runs right through my village. The picture of the apartment building missing a roof is about 1/2 mile from my house and it happens to be one that I pass every day when I take DramaBoy to school. A car wash was practically leveled about 1/4 mile from my house. Trees are down everywhere and roads are blocked and will be for a day or two. For some reason, thank God, everything within a few blocks of my house is fine, not even any trees down. So, the tornado that went through just made a straight line about 1/4-1/2 mile south of us. I’m a little weary of what I’m going to see when I get back on Tuesday. Things should be fairly cleaned up by then but maybe I can snap some pictures.

Here is one article on the weather - Bad Weather

In other news, tonight I made 70 flautas (rolled tacos - a common Hispanic food) for my sister and her friends. They were having a little party tonight and I offered to make them since they went over so well last time I was here. But, one girl, a complete and total bitch who seems to think she is God’s gift to everyone, apparently did not like them and made it well known. She actually had the audacity to stand two feet behind me, literally, as I was making them, whispering to her boyfriend, in a nasty tone, that they were just all grease and she couldn’t eat them. Did she not think I could here her?

Just before that, I was walking to get to the stove and she was passing the same way and said “Excuse me” in such a ratty ass tone that I wanted to drop kick her fat ass to the fucking moon. I said nothing, because she was on the phone and I thought maybe there was a chance she was saying it to the person on the other end. Then, after I heard her bitch about the grease I was making and subsequently order 5 fucking pizzas (no, those aren’t greasy at all) I knew the bitch had said “excuuuuuse me!” to me, directly. Cunt.

Who the fuck comes to someone else’s house, bitches about the food and then orders pizza! You don’t have to like what is served but most people would politely decline and then eat whatever they could and at the worst, leave early and hit a drive through! At least that is what NICE FUCKING PEOPLE DO!

Then, as I was leaving everyone was thanking me and blah blah blah and the stoopid bitch actually had the balls to say “Muchas Gracias”. She said it nicely but puh-leeze! Don’t be fucking phony, or sarcastic.

Ok, goodnight.

Look what I received in my email today.

View Larger Map

That would be me, taking groceries from my car, in front of my house. Picture courtesy of some satellite floating way out in space, thousands of miles above the earth. No, I don’t feel violated at all <heavy sarcastic overtone here>.

Since today is Friday and we are entering the weekend, and since this is my first post in well over a week, I won’t bother with a big post today. Everyone is preparing for Mother’s Day weekend anyway so no one is going to be reading blogs.

So, enjoy your weekend and love your mother’s!!! Happy Mother’s Day to all of you mom’s!

… or is it duex. I don’t deux/duex French.

I digress…

I wanted to thank all of you for responding. You were honest and insightful and I enjoyed reading everyone’s reply! I found something surprising in the responses, too. Most of you don’t worry about “reciprocal blogging” as dubbed by Verybadcat in her comment. This means most of you will still read blogs even if they don’t comment on yours. To be honest, I sort of knew that already because of the people that still come back here, even though I don’t leave comments on their blog… I read a lot of the time, but don’t comment much. Again, I am trying to comment more.

Ms Diva was the exception to this “reciprocal blogging” rule though. But it is quite alright. I still love her.

Anyway, many many thanks. Your comments were are all great and interesting and I totally heart ALL OF YOU!!! Thank you for coming to see me each day. Or every other day. Or once a week… whatever the case is.

All of you new commenters whom I had not seen before have been added to my blogroll as well. Not that this means you have reached star status or anything because this blog is still quite lame… so don’t get to excited.

It’s Friday, which means we are rolling into the weekend and that means people would rather be spending time with family and relaxing that reading blogs. Whatever. So, since no one is really reading anyway, there is really nothing else to say.

Soon, I will putting up another post that asks more questions completely unrelated to blogging. So I will need your input again.

Happy weekend!

I have some questions for everyone today regarding comments, readers and feeds, how you find me, etc.

I am an avid stat checker. I know a lot of bloggers are. It’s fun to see where people come from and who’s reading your blog. I find a lot of good blogs by checking my stats. Along with good blogs I also find plenty of disgusting and lame Google searches that somehow bring people to my blog.

Lately I have seen a lot of new people/bloggers that have found me. I can only assume that some of them don’t like what they see, don’t agree with things they have read or just find that I’m not a good match for them so it’s a one time visit. We all do that; we find blogs, read a post and move on. That’s fine. Everyone doesn’t have to love me and I don’t have to love everyone.

Bloggers can also be very cliquey. Such as life. We usually try to find people like us, don’t we? We do this so we can relate and share common ground. I suppose there really isn’t anything wrong with that, but to me, there is so much more to discover out there. Blogging has become such a great way to reach far corners of this world that we normally would not have had a chance discover without the internet and blogging. So, it’s nice to open your mind and find people that are NOT like you.

Now, for the questions:

How did you find this blog?

Do you read blogs of others that are different from you on various levels?

When you leave comments, do you subscribe to updates so you can see what others are saying or do you just leave a comment and move on?

Do you expect the blogger to respond to you via the comments or email?

Do you only read bloggers who read your blog? Do you stop coming back if they don’t leave comments on your blog?

Why do you read what you read?

Consider these questions as something like a study of bloggers. Of course, the ulterior motive is to improve my blog and my connections with bloggers, but I truly am curious about how others operate.

Even if you have never commented before, this would be a good time to speak up. I don’t really care about the number of comments I get because I do see that a lot more people read than comment so, no, this is not a ploy to get comments. I have pretty much given up on getting 30+ comments a post. The way I see it is if my posts were that interesting or thought provoking then I would probably get those 30 or more comments. Obviously, what I write isn’t that great and that is ok! I’m happy regardless and the comments I do get are just that much more special to me. I read every single one (when they are actually delivered to my email box) and truly enjoy that other people take the time to say something to me. I just need to return that favor more, and I am trying.

So, please, tell me your thoughts. What makes you comment or not comment? What keeps you returning to the blogs you read? How do you want the author to respond to your comments?

If you don’t take the time to answer this post with comments about your thoughts on blogging then I will be forced to put a post up tomorrow that deals with children and poop, and I know ya’ll don’t want that.

I just need to know, ok? Humor me.

That is really the only thing I have to say at the moment. This is a good thing!

For some reason hubs went with a generic brand recently, instead of getting our usual Jif™. Now, I’m stuck with a huge jar of fully hydrogenated peanut butter that barely has any taste, let alone real peanuts.

Dammit. I’m a choosy mom who would have chosen Jif™.

Oh, and the dog is soooooo grounded, til he is like, 18. Bastard.

I was awoken out of a dead sleep around 4:40am to the sounds of my roof and house creaking louder than normal and my bed was shaking. This isn’t really that abnormal because we are very close to two major railways. When the freight trains go by you can feel them if you are upstairs in our bed. The floor will bounce a tiny bit and it feels similar to standing on a bridge as cars drive over. This makes our bed shake a tad as well so we feel it mostly when we are laying in bed. We can’t feel the trains when we are downstairs for some reason though. Our house will also creak if the wind is strong. It is actually a very comforting and homey sound when we lay in bed upstairs and listen to the house pop and creak as the wind gusts by. It always makes me wonder how our house has stood through 114 years of wind, storms, rain, snow and so much more.

Are you wondering, “why the hell do I care about the antics of your house and what you do when you lay in bed?!” yet? Well, I do have a point. I’ll get to it soon.

Last night, as my house was creaking and my bed was shaking I quickly noticed the absence of a train, and wind. My house was apparently shaking for no reason. Weird. Hub’s was sleeping downstairs because Monster had literally kicked him out of bed. I just laid there next to a snoring Monster whose feet were firmly planted in my side and I just continued thinking, “Hm, my bed is shaking, a lot. Dammit, I was sound  asleep and having a great dream! I cannot believe we are having a stupid earthquake. I live outside of Chicago and a stupid-ass earthquake is disturbing my sleep! This is pretty cool.”

“Ssssnnnnnzzzzzzzzzz….”

Sunrise came and I was yet again woken out of a dead sleep only this time it was by DramaBoy staring at me from the side of my bed. I get up and follow him downstairs and run straight to pee (a 114-year old house equipped with one tiny bathroom downstairs… I do not get up in the middle of the night unless I’m about to explode and can’t sleep). As I walk back into the livingroom I am startled by the fact that my husband is still in his pajamas sitting in the chair. It is Friday, not Saturday.

Sidebar: Apparently I was up all night throwing up because I had food poisoning so he had to stay home from work to help me today. Cool. What a guy. Thankfully I woke up feeling a lot better.

Anyway, I asked, “Um, babes? Can I ask you a really stoopid question?”

“Sure.”

“Um, did we have an earthquake last night?”

“Yes! We really did!” he said straight-faced and matter of factly.

“SHUT UP! I knew it!” I screeched and immediately turned on the t.v.

“….. the Midwest experienced a 5.2 magnitude earthquake in the early morning hours….”

“Babe! You just had your earthquake cherry popped! You are now ready to live in Phoenix.” I said proudly.

This wasn’t my first. I have been through a fairly good quake that was centered pretty close to where I lived when I was a kid. Then I just felt the small shocks from another major quake centered in the California desert in the middle of the night while I was at work. I was on the fourth floor of my building in Tempe and felt things bounce around for a few seconds.

Since I did a science project in 7th grade on earthquakes, tectonic plates and fault zones I feel that I am incredibly well versed in the seismic geology. I also happen to be a complete seismic geek with a sick obsession with earthquakes. Because of my incredibly profound background knowledge I knew that a quake in the Midwest was not unusual. I also knew that one of the largest quakes to hit the continental United States was in Missouri in the 1800’s. Blah blah blah… I told you, I’m a geek.

So we had an earthquake. Cool. I say that as calm and cool as I can but I’m secretly doing back flips and screeching like a school-girl because we totally had an earthquake! WHOO!

At least I am not writing about yet another personal meltdown or something funny my kids did or about poop. My lame earthquake story should be a blessing today.

For a little less than 4 years I have been without a job, a job that pays money. I have not had to wake up to an alarm. I have not had to ask for vacation time. I have not needed to call in sick. I have been my own boss and have had freedom from rigorous schedules. I have been the woman that my kids puke on, crawl into bed with, laugh with, learn to walk with and who supplied all the hugs and kisses they could ever possibly need.

For a little less than 4 years we have struggled financially. We decided that this struggle was worth the sacrifice because I was home with our kids day in and day out. We have been stressed about money and managed it poorly, but we did it and still managed to put food on the table and keep the roof over our heads.

For a little less than 4 years I have secretly wondered if being an at-home-mom is what is truly best for me and my kids. I have secretly wondered that maybe not working contributes to my laziness and maybe I’m not the best influence on my kids. I have wondered if I’m actually one of those moms that is better off working and would have more well-rounded kids. I have stifled those thoughts because I thought that I was doing my dream job, even though it felt like I couldn’t handle it on many days. I stifled those thoughts because I didn’t want a real job, outside of the house, because I’m lazy. I like being carefree with my schedule. I like not waking up to an alarm.

Yes, I am my own worst critic. I seem to have absolutely zero faith in myself or my abilities. So, being faced with going back to work after 4 years is scary. I don’t want us to become that family who can’t breathe let alone sit down because there just aren’t enough hours in a day to get everything done. I like our somewhat relaxed lifestyle right now. I am wondering how I am going to get up to an alarm (it has NEVER been easy for me… I’m that person who hits snooze 11 times) and get myself and my children ready in the morning. I am wondering how I am going to come home from a long day of work and clean the house, take care of the kids, clean up after dinner and do homework, all before bed. I do need sleep.

However, as I write this out, as these thoughts are purged from my head, one thing scrolls through my brain like an LED sign… This is what I need… This is what I need… This is what I need…

I think I need to be busy. I think I need less sleep in order to function better. I think my kids and I will appreciate each other more. I think I can do this because other mom’s do it every day. I think having structure in my day will be exactly what I need. It will keep my diet in check. I might even lose weight! It will keep my thoughts from wondering all over the place day in and day out. I think that we will have more money.

We. Will. Have. More. Money. That is not the main reason I’m going back to work though but it sure will be nice!

This morning I started out completely terrified. I told myself that it couldn’t be done. I told myself that I was insane to think I could be a working mother. How am I supposed to uproot my kids and myself and go live with my mother in a crowded house and manage a life, in someone else’s home, without my husband. I can’t do that!

The more I write and the more I chat with hub’s about all of this, the more excited I get, the more I realize that this is what I need to do. This will be good for my family in the end, once we are settled in our home and both have a good routine down. I look forward to having something occupy my time that is all mine. I look forward to dressing up in work clothes again. I look forward to paying our bills without worry. I look forward to this new venture.

Even though I’m scared, nervous, apprehensive and sad, I truly am excited to start getting things underway.

In case it is not clear yet, I spoke with the recruiter at UOP (University of Phoenix) yesterday. I told her May 5th was way too soon and asked if a later start date was possible. She said, and this is a direct quote, “Absolutely yes!”

Now before you all get too excited and think, oh they want you bad! It isn’t like that. She just said that they had filled up the spots in the May 5th training class so a later start date would work out for both of us. She said the next training starts in June sometime but she wasn’t sure of the exact date. She will be calling me in the next couple of weeks to let me know. Then, if I can commit to that new date and the 6 weeks of training then she can extend the offer officially.

Now, June is still too soon. And, if it’s early June I won’t be able to accept the offer and I would HOPE she could push me back to yet another start date, without burning up my chances at this job. I could always reapply, but I would rather just get it all over with now and commit to a later start date. So, at this point, we are just waiting for a start date and then, hubs and I have decided that I should take it and move out there with the boys while he finishes things up here. He knows this will make me happy and that is what he wants for me right now.

I worry about him though. This type of move is not easy for him, he is the one giving up a lot now. He feels a lot of pressure and rightly so. He doesn’t even have a job yet. And, he will be the one back here trying to sell or rent this house. He will be the one who won’t see his kids for a few months, or longer, God forbid. Right now, he is the one making the biggest sacrifices, for me. So, I guess we both have a lot of pressure on our shoulders.

Then, there are the boys. We will be taking them away from all they know. They will have a working mother soon. My little velcro-boy, Monster, won’t have me all day long like he does now. He doesn’t even like being away from me for a couple of hours, let alone all day, every day.

Oh the changes that are on our horizon. Oh the fear I feel. Oh the guilt I feel. Oh the excitement I feel. There is a such a gynormous range of emotions here and I can’t really deal with all of them. They circle round as if they were on a lazy susan. One minute it’s guilt that comes up, the next minute it’s excitement. Just grab and spin and see what comes up next.

So, that is where things are. I still have a lot of things to deal with but right now, I feel good. I feel a little like a pouty child who just got her way, though. I didn’t mean for that to be the case. I just know that I was homesick, depressed and overwhelmed and things are starting to come into focus a bit more. I still have to get in touch with a therapist and work on some other things, and I will, today.

Ok, that’s it. Now it’s time to go play with Monster, OUTSIDE!